Rhysand
The wind knew.
It whispered among the leaves, sending her name to me on a soft breeze, wrapping around my heart and fracturing my soul.
Feyre, it called. Feyre.
I clenched my wineglass tightly, watching the stars flare above Velaris. Seven months. Seven months since Amarantha had held this continent in her sway. Four since the Courts had rallied and overthrown Hybern.
Three and a half since I'd last seen Feyre.
My mate.
Just as quickly as that thought formed I shut it down.
She wasn't my anything.
She was Tamlin's, and Prythian's, hell, even Lucien's, but never mine.
I took another gulp of alcohol, feeling a pleasant numbness sweep through me, then went to take another and realized the glass was entirely empty.
Shit.
Drinking was the only thing that kept my mind busy these days. Everything else was a blur. Even Morrigan. Even Velaris.
I let out a deep sigh, wings rustling behind me as I hauled my ass up from the chair. My vision swam a bit and I grabbed onto the table for support.
Mother. Mor was going to kill me for this. She'd long since lost her patience with my moping. She was expecting me at the House; there was a meeting between all the High Lords in a week, and we had to decide who was going, and who was staying behind to guard Velaris.
But…
Four months since the war had interrupted Feyre and Tamlin's fairytale wedding, interrupted the haze of fear and panic I'd felt from her that day. Lately, my nightmares were less about Amarantha and more about Feyre. The fear, rage and pain had blurred together so much, I wasn't sure what was her and what was mine.
The lines had long since blurred anyway.
I still hadn't heard whether they'd reinstated their engagement. Every time I casually asked Az about the Spring Court, my brother just told me there was no new news.
It rankled me more than it should have.
I drained the last drops from my glass and straightened, pasting on the arrogant, at ease mask my family expected me to wear.
No hint of the broken, cracking heart beneath.
A High Lord through and through.
Utterly oblivious to what was coming.